Going After The Detective
by Scarlett Red Rose
Summary: A man from Mrs. Hudson's past is back with a mind for revenge on Holmes. Can Mrs. Hudson and Watson save him in time?
1. The Idea Is Proposed

A/N: Usually disclaimer applies.  Nothing owned by me.  No money paid to me.

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Going After The Detective 

            I glanced around the sitting room of 221B Baker Street.  At first I thought that I was looking at another room or I was dreaming but it wasn't either.  For once, the room was actually _clean_.

            Well, maybe it wasn't _totally_ cleaned but at least it looked a little more…like an English gentleman's sitting room should look.

            I took a step into it.  I was almost afraid that if I went too far it would turn out to be an illusion and I would loose it all.  I hesitated, and then took two more steps forward.

            Well, if it was an illusion it wasn't going anywhere for the time being.  I began to walk normally around the room.  "_It's nice to see the floor of this place every once in awhile,_" I thought to myself.  Then I noticed an envelope addressed to me.

            I picked it up and looked it over.  It was written in Mr. Holmes' quick, sometimes almost illegible, writing.  I sat down and carefully opened the envelope.

            _Dear Mrs. Hudson,_ (it read)

            _I am writing to inform you of my departure from London to the Sussex Downs.  It has come to my attention that I simply cannot solve every singular problem that the public gives me and, much as I would like to stay, I simply cannot be a bother to you anymore.  I know it must have disturbed you to have everything from kings to nothing less than ruffians knocking at your door.  It pains me too much to tell both you and Watson good-bye so, if you aren't furiously mad at me, would you please tell him that he was the best companion in our adventures that I have ever had.  And you, my good woman, you were always cooking our meals, making sure that we, me in particular, had enough food to survive and more._

_It is painful to know that I only leave you with this note; I'm sure, but always remember me to be_

Very sincerely yours, 

Sherlock Holmes

            Just after I finished reading his note a knock sounded at the door.

            "Come in," I called.  Dr. Watson bustled in.

            "Oh, he's not here either," he stated.

            "If you're talking of Mr. Holmes, Doctor, I'd advise that you'd better read this."  He took the paper from my hands and began to read it.  When he finished he sat down, stunned.

            "What should we do Doctor?  Mr. Holmes means so much to you, I know, but he means so much to me too.  What can we do?"

            The doctor looked up at me in surprise.  "Well, I don't think there's much we _can_ do Mrs. Hudson.  It's his own choice to leave and when he makes up his mind, well, that matter is finalized."

            Now don't get me wrong, Mr. Holmes annoys me to no end with his constant deductions and with nearly every sort of person from around the world tramping (in one way or another) up and down our steps but, still, there was (is) something very nice about that man and I had a feeling he wasn't going to live very long without somebody keeping an eye on him.

            "You're wrong Doctor," I said.

            "Wha- what?"

            "You're wrong," I repeated.  "Because I'm going after Mr. Holmes!"

* * *


	2. Our Adventure Begins

A/N: Wow, I thought I was going to be yelled at or something for writing this. Anyway, on to recognizing my reviewers:

**Jisdu**-Thanks!  Mrs. Hudson has been in the dark for too long!  =)

**Brink**-I will try to write more but I'm balancing between this story and a story I'm writing in The Lord Of The Rings section, so it gets pretty interesting.

**Nooku**-I'll keep writing, don't worry.

**Adelaide Holmes**-I'm continuing, I just hope I live up to everyone's, and my, expectations.

**Fortuna**-I agree.  I always wondered what she would be like if she had to solve a mystery or something of that sort.

Well, I hope this chapter lives up to all of your expectations!

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Going After The Detective 

Part 2

            "You're doing _what_?"  By the look on the doctor's face you'd have thought that I had slapped him.  I straightened into my defense mode: chin up, shoulders back, spine straight, and all my determination ready.

            "I'm going after Mr. Holmes.  There's nothing you can do that will make me change my mind doctor."

            He looked at me, obviously thinking about what I was going to do.  Then he stood up and looked at me with…was it sympathy I saw there?

            "Mrs. Hudson, you're tired, I can see it.  You didn't sleep well last night.  Why don't you sit down here and I'll make us some-"

            "No doctor.  You're distracting me I can see it.  You didn't sleep well last night.  Why don't you sit down here and _I_ will go and make us some breakfast.  After that, you can return home and pack because it's obvious that if I go alone you're going to make a simply horrible fuss."  I smiled and stood back, watching his reaction as I threw his words back at him.  He looked at me for a moment, and then sat down again.

* * *

            "Dumb glove," I muttered.  "Why won't you just fit me correctly?"  We were on the station platform waiting to catch our train.  We had both thrown our clothes and other belongings into a couple of bags and I had just found out that one of my gloves was refusing to fit properly.

            "Doctor, do you-"

            "Please, call me either Watson or John.  Everyone else does."  I could feel my cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red.  It wasn't that I minded calling him by what he preferred.  It was just that I usually called them by their titles or with a Mr. in front of their names.  It would be odd to not do it with the doctor.

            But still, he had said please.

            "Very well Doct-John.  Then please, call me Martha."  He raised an eyebrow.

            "And do you wish me to call you that in public and when we're around Holmes?"  I felt my blush return.

            "As you wish, though it may be embarrassing for both of us."  He laughed quietly.

            "I'm sorry, I believe you were asking a question earlier," he asked.

            Before I could reply a long blast of the horn signaled that the train entering the station.

            "Never mind, it wasn't important."  He nodded and we stepped onto our train.

* * *

            We settled down on our bench.  We were the only ones in our compartment besides a young gentleman, quite possibly in his late twenties.  He looked rather well to do but he didn't come from a manor of anything of that sort.  Yet something about him disturbed me.  I sighed and pulled out my book.  I would think about it later.

            Or at least I would have if he hadn't started coughing so badly I thought he was going to choke.  I made my way over to him and touched him on the back of his shoulder.

            "Sir?  Sir are you well?"  I blinked and the next thing I knew I was facing the barrel of a gun.

            "Quite fine my dear Martha.  Better then I've been in awhile actually.  It will be so nice to finally have you back with me again."

* * *

A/N: Ooo, is this the end for Mrs. Hudson?  Who is this man?  Will he kill her before she has a chance to get to Holmes?  And just what is Watson going to do about this?  You'll just have to leave a review. *Evil laughter*

Ah yes, sometimes I enjoy being evil.  But maybe I'll update quickly.  It all depends on when I next become inspired (hopefully it won't be too long now).

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	3. Or He Dies

A/N: Whoa!  Thanks to everyone who reviewed, this is my most reviewed story so far!  Well, since I was away for so long I might just be able to get _two_ chapters up quickly.  Thanks again everyone!

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Going After The Detective 

Part 3

            "What the…. who are you," I asked.  Was it just me or was my voice shaking there?

            "Why Martha, my dear, my love, don't you remember me?  Your Scott…" he whispered in my ear.  My body tensed.  My old tenant (before Holmes and John) and the only man I had ever allowed myself to love.

            Did I also mention that he was the son of Holmes worst enemy Moriarty?

            Scott drew me close keeping a strong arm around me and slowly pointed the gun at Watson.

            "Tell me where Holmes is," he hissed at me.  "Or your friend dies."

* * *

            I glanced up from my writings and saw bees going inside my only beehive.  There had always been something that had interested me so about them.  I stood up and began to pace around the room, simply because it had become a habit that made me think.  After about fifteen minutes I flung myself back into my chair with a disgusted groan.  This was not working.  If only Mrs. Hudson were here….

            I jerked slightly straighter.  Come now Holmes you did what was best and you'll survive on your own.

            Somehow.

* * *

            "You mean you've lived with him for who knows how long and you don't know where he is?!"  Watson nodded slowly; keeping an eye on the gun that was still aimed at him.

            "We're trying to figure that out," he told Scott.  Scott glared at him.  Suddenly he flung me down to the floor of the train with such force that it stunned me for a moment.

            "Well that's not good enough!  And now my man, I'm sorry I have to do this but-"

            "NO!" I screeched.  I grabbed at him just as the gun went off and suddenly all went black.

* * *

A/N:  Oh, I'm so mean.  Leaving you again with another cliffhanger.  I'll try to update ASAP but things do come up….I guess you'll just have to leave another review.


	4. Then I'll Come Back For You

A/N: Ooo, I'm so mean to all of you aren't I?  Well, I hope I made this chapter long enough for you.  If not you'll just have to wait for part five! ;)

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Going After The Detective 

Part 4

            "Oooh.  My poor…head.  Now whatever will Mr. Holmes say when we get there?"  I sat up filling the back of my head tenderly.  No blood, it was just a murderously bad headache that was all.

            "Martha, are you all right?"  There's Dr. Wa-John (get it right Martha!) kneeling beside me on the floor, prodding the back of my head for any…what?  Major bruises?  I didn't know, all I knew was that my head was going to ache for at least a year.

            "Yes John, I'm fine," It takes me a minute to realize that we're the only ones in the compartment again.  "Where's Scott?"

            "Um, he took himself off the train…while it was moving."

            "While it was _moving_?"

            "Yes, that's what he did.  Are you sure you're all right?"  I stood up on wobbly legs and the headache worsened.

            "Like I said before: I'm fine…well, except for this pounding headache…" John reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle.  He opened it and handed me two small capsules.

            "Swallow these."  I looked at them suspiciously.

            "What are they?"

            "Just medicine to help you with your headache, that's all."  I looked at them one more time, closed my eyes, tilted my head back, threw the pills in my mouth and forced them down.  It took a bit but my headache was gradually relieving.

            "So, what do we do now?"

* * *

            I look around the room desperately trying to get focused on my writing again…but I can't.  It's strange, usually I can focus on any task at hand but now, for some reason, I can't.

Maybe it's because my thoughts turn back to Mrs. Hudson and Watson and what they're doing right now.  I sigh.

Not for the first time do I wonder if I've made the right choice.

* * *

            I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.  I couldn't settle.  After seeing Scott again, and learning that he wanted to get revenge on Mr. Holmes, it was rather unnerving.

            "Martha, calm yourself.  I doubt he's coming back."

            "But what if he reaches Mr. Holmes before we do?"

            "He doesn't know where he is remember?  Only that he's somewhere in the Sussex Downs."

            "But the idea that Holmes was moving down there would have sparked any one who's read your tale's interest.  Word does travel fast these days."

            "Indeed it does.  Let us hope that this train travels faster."  I smile and glance around the train.  It wasn't until then that I noticed the folded piece of paper on the floor.

            "What's this," I whispered as I reached and picked it up.

            _Don't worry about your friend,_ (it read)_ his grave will be very comfortable, I assure you.  First I'll give him a house warming party, and then I'll come back for you!_

* * *

A/N: Well, did you like it?  Was it long enough?  Was it still too short?  Are you going to murder me?  Wait, just answer that, don't do it.  Just leave a review and I'll try to update ASAP!


	5. Directions To Mr Holmes' House

A/N: Yipes!  *Ducks underneath bed* You want it, you got it.  *Takes a glance at murder weapons* Nice writers…look, nice story…

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Going After The Detective 

Part 5

            I glare at the sun.  The dang thing is now setting.  This is not going to improve my mood at all.

            I walk over to my pipe, pick it up, and light it before beginning to pace the room again.  Why am I getting the feeling that something is terribly, horribly wrong?  Normally I base my deductions on facts not feelings, but this time, yes, this time alone I have the feeling (curse it!) that it might be right for me to do that.

            My eyes fall upon the picture of my parents.  "Look what you've done, just look at what you have created," I hiss at it.  "Now, I can't even think straight because of…" My voice trails into silence for a moment.  And then my anger, the anger that I've held in for so long, boils over.

            "I WOULDN'T EVEN BE HERE IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU!"

            I stand there staring at the picture, my pipe shaking in my hands.  I reach over and grab the picture and make to throw it at the wall.  But then I stop and look at it again.  My hand trembles as I set it back on the shelf.

            And then the tears come, tears for people I hated so many years ago, tears for people who loved but had none in return, tears for people I hated until a few moments ago.  With the tears comes the stark realization that they were right:

            Sometimes you _do_ have to trust your feelings.

* * *

            I grabbed my bags and started to walk towards the door of our compartment.

            "Hey, Martha!  Hold on!"  With an impatient sigh I turn around to see John catching up with me.

            "Faster John, please!  For all we know Mr. Holmes could already be dead!"

            "I doubt it, one can't move very fast in this country on foot.  At least, not where he wants to go."

            We step out of our car and look around.  My eye catches what I hope to be a local and I walk over to him.  "Excuse me, but could you give us directions to Mr. Holmes' house?"  The man looks startled and then sad.

            "I'm sorry, but I do believe he was killed this morning."

            John caught me as I tumbled backwards.

* * *

A/N: *Glances out from under bed* Oh no, what have I done!  I'm going to have my throat slit while I sleep!  *Winces as knife digs into the part of bed just above my head* I'm in big trouble now…*slides back under bed and you see and evil grin*

*Calls out from under bed* also, you don't have to tell me, this was far too short for your liking…*a second knife joins the first*


	6. Very Soon

A/N: Ooo, death threats…  I can counter that now.  Also, I made reference to a hansom, not sure if they had those in the Sussex but let's just slip back into the world of pretend for right now…

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Going After The Detective 

Part 6

            "Martha?  Martha?  Come along now woman you can not do this to me!"  John's words drifted into my fog like a lighthouse beam.  "Wha…what?  John what is it?"  A smile lit his face as I tried to pull what had just happened back into their original places.  I really _had_ to stop fainting.  It was making me look a bit _too _feminine.  Of course, since I was preoccupied in my thoughts I wasn't really listening to what John was saying.

            "…heard wrong…Mr. Colmes…is alive."  I froze.  "Sorry, could you repeat that?"  "The man just heard wrong.  He thought you said Mr. _Colmes._ It was he who was murdered this morning."  He grasped my hand, surprising me.  "He's alive Martha.  He survived the falls and he'll survive Scott too.  He's _alive_!"  I thought I saw his eyes glisten for a moment but when I looked again it had disappeared.  He pulled me up off the ground where I had been laid.  It had done him good to talk about Mr. Holmes; Mr. _Holmes_ had done him good.  I squeezed his hand.  The three of us wanted, no, _needed_ to be together.  We were a part of each other, stuck together in this crazy world whether we liked it or not.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't do us any good if we didn't reach Mr. Holmes in time.  I reached down and picked up one of my bags.  "Well, shall we call a hansom?"

* * *

I nearly knocked over a glass of some bubbling brew or other when there a knock came at the door.  From the sound of it, a man.  And from the sharp, quick knocks, someone with authority.

The Sussex constable force knew I was here.

Help us.

I stood up and opened the door.  "Ah, Jameston!  I thought you were patrolling London."  Jameston stepped inside.  "Well, I was sir.  But they thought I could do better down here."  "Yes, I see.  Do require my assistance in something?"  He fidgeted.  The news wasn't good.  "Would you like to sit down," I offered.  "If it doesn't trouble you Mr. Holmes."  We settled ourselves in our respective chairs and Jameston cleared his throat.

"You see, Mr. Holmes, a neighbor of yours was murdered just this morning…" I raised a hand.  "Jameston, I do not take cases of such 'garden variety' anymore.  I do believe that with the proper logic you can, and _will,_ solve the case _on your own_."  His head snapped up from when he had glanced down with…was it a bit of shame I saw?

"Mr. Holmes, please hear me out!  This one is different!"

"Aren't they all?"  He took a deep breath and tried again.

"Mr. Holmes, I would not have come to you if I didn't think this was strange enough.  Mr. Colmes was murdered…"

Colmes… Where had I heard that name before?

"A week exactly after he pleaded his case to you."

* * *

I rest a hand on top of my gun and glance inside.  Good, that fool of a constable was trying to convince Holmes to look into the murder of one Mr. William Colmes.

A murder I had brilliantly pulled off.

I look inside again, still hiding, still watching.  I smile evilly.

Soon, revenge will be mine.  Soon the thirst I have so long had will be quenched.

I could have him now, but where would be the fun of killing him in front of his best friends?  Nothing could compare to that.

I pat the top of my gun lightly.

Soon.

Very soon.

* * *

A/N: Are you all happy that I didn't kill him?  Sorry this took so long, life got busy.  Anyway, any suggestions on what to do next would be appreciated.  And I know this was short but not only do I need some ideas, I'm rather busy at the moment but I wanted to update so here it is.  Now, if you don't want me to _really_ kill Holmes off…you better read and review!


	7. One Minute

A/N: Wow, I think this is the longest chapter yet!  Well, are you going to read the author's notes all day or are you going to start reading?  ;)  Thanks to all my reviewers!

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Going After The Detective 

Part 7

            I sighed.  What the heck was I doing here?  This was a "garden variety" case, as I had so called it, and yet here I was looking at a dead man hanging from the ceiling.

            Oh yes, my life is wonderful.

            "As you can see, sir, he strung himself up and kicked the chair out from under him.  That's what the butler said."  Jameston was talking and I was _trying_ to listen but he was starting to sound like a little, whiny girl.  Pull yourself together Holmes, at least the man hasn't pulled a gun out and shot you.  "Let's go talk to the butler then Jameston."  

We made our way down the stairs that had led to Mr. Colmes' room on the second floor.  Within a few minutes we had made our way to the kitchen where another constable was keeping an eye on Mr. Amjes, the butler.

"Sirs, it's getting late.  Won't you let a mourning servant go to bed?"  "Not yet Mr. Amjes, not 'till Mr. Holmes is through with you."  "Good evening gentlemen," I greeted them.  They replied.  "Jameston, is it possible for you and your counterpart to leave me alone with Mr. Amjes?"  Jameston glanced at the butler before motioning to the other man and walking out of the room.

* * *

"Wait!  Stop!  Stop!"  The driver brought the hansom to a stop.  "Something the matter, miss?"  I paused, taking a breath before continuing.  "Whose house is that ahead of us?"  The driver squinted, peering ahead in the gathering gloom.  "That's the late Mr. Colmes' house, miss."  "Drive us there now, hurry!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, miss."  Why was that becoming an annoying sentence?  Oh yes, because everyone was beginning to say that all the time!  "Why ever not sir?"  As an answer he pulled a gun out of his pocket.  "Because theirs going to be a double murder in that house, wouldn't want the boss to make a quadruple murder now would we?"

"I would hope not sir, particularly when we know who going to be killed."  Martha, shut up will you?  The man glared.  "Out of my hansom!"  We tumbled out and the man aimed the gun at me.  "You know too much, both of you.  It's just so hard to decide which one of you to do in first.  But I suppose etiquette applies in killing as much as in proper society."  He leveled the gun.  "Good-bye, Martha Hudson."

* * *

I sighed inwardly, how had I gotten myself into this?  "…I looked up and I saw Mr. Colmes positioning the rope around his neck and then, just as I was about to shout, he-he kicked the chair out from under him."  "And you're sure that's _everything_ that happened?"  Mr. Amjes looked at me horrified.  "Mr. Holmes!  Are you accusing me of _lying_?"  I glanced out the window as the last of the sun dipped behind the mountain.  "No, I was merely implying that something else might be there but you are hiding it to save someone."

He turned towards the window and walked over to it.  "Beautiful sunset, wasn't it," He murmured.  I stared at him, what in London was he talking about?  "Unfortunately for you, it will be the _last_ sunset you will ever see."  He whirled back to me, gun in hand.  "I do hope you enjoyed it."  My brain pulled all the pieces together as I turned and yelled for Jameston and his companion.  Jameston came running in, his companion trailing behind.  "Scott, perfect timing."  The other constable looked around.  "Scott?  I thought his name was… Arthur, what is this?"  Arthur Jameston looked his friend in the eye.  "You're funeral."  With that he whipped out his gun and pulled the trigger on him.  The man staggered backwards for a moment before his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor.

Scott turned towards me.  "Don't worry Sherlock," I winced.  "We'll have time to hear your confession of how you killed my father before we shoot you."  I glared at him.  "Scott Moriarty, forty-six years old, acts like a two year old," The gun lifted my chin up ever so slightly, I was walking dangerous ground.  "Wanted for at least seven different crimes, and took over the family business of trying to murder me."  Scott smiled.

"Bravo, Mr. Holmes.  I changed my father's first name around to suit Mr. Colmes' newly employed butler.  The other one, I'm afraid, had an unfortunate accident.  You knew that already, I'm sure.  But you for got one very important thing in my lovely biography.  I changed my name to my mother's maiden name and married your housekeeper."  He laughed.  "And I do believe that she has an appointment with her long lost love in just a few minutes."  I pulled back for a moment.  "Mrs. Hudson would never have married you!"  Ah, but my dear Sherlock, she did.  I promised I'd come back for her and I'm keeping my promise true."  "So all your life you've been living a lie!"

"Not so, Mr. Holmes, I was honest when I said Mr. Colmes murdered himself…with a gun to his head.  The poor man hung himself and _I_ kicked the stool and made up my story, lovely tale wasn't it?"  He pulled out his pocket watch.  "Your friends have one minute before the nightmare of William Sherlock Scott Holmes' death becomes a reality."

Two guns and no way to get to my own.

What was I going to do?

* * *

I glanced at Martha beside me.  "Hurry John!  We have to make it, I know he's in there!"  "How do you know?" I yelled back at her.  "Just trust me!  I know Scott and he killed Mr. Colmes to get Mr. Holmes trapped!  We have to reach him!  Oh, and by the way, that was a good way of getting rid of the driver."  I grinned.  I had been inching my way towards the driver and at the last instant knocked the gun out of his hand.  I had aimed his own gun at him and he had run away into the forest screaming.  Now if only we reached Holmes in time…

* * *

"Forty-five seconds…" Scott called out.  He leveled the gun a bit.

* * *

We were halfway up the path now.  Why, I wondered, hadn't we decided to borrow the hansom, it would have been easier.  Because you don't think well in a hurry Martha, I reminded myself.  I trudged to upwards and thought I saw a movement in the kitchen window at the side of the house.  The road turned a bend then and I called up the John.  "John, use the back way!  Go in the back door!"

* * *

"Fifteen seconds…" I looked at him, trying to figure a way out of my predicament.

There was none.

* * *

We reached the back door.  It was unlocked.  "Stupid people…" I muttered.  They should know that they'll likely be murdered if they leave the door open and I, as a doctor, couldn't help them there.  Of course most of the people in this house was murdered already.  I dashed into the living room, Martha on my heels.

* * *

"Ten seconds…" I smiled.  Revenge would be mine at last!

* * *

"Watson, the kitchen!"  Martha hissed in my ear.  I thought I saw something there.  I shoved the spare gun I had carried into her hand and we began to run to the other side of the house.

* * *

"Five…four…three…" I was doomed.

* * *

We reached the door and found Scott and another man standing beside him with their backs to us.

* * *

"Two…" I closed my eyes, never even noticing Mrs. Hudson or Watson.  It was the end.

* * *

"One!"  Two gunshots went off at the same time and one followed a second after.  Scott and Jameston jerked forward and Scott's shot came home into my shoulder.  As the two collapsed I was given only a few seconds to see Watson's horrified face and to hear him shout my name in agony before I slumped to the floor and everything went black.

* * *

A/N: That last part took forever to get done!  It's not over yet, obviously.  I have one or two more chapters lined up and _maybe_ a sequel or something else to do with Mrs. Hudson.  Suggestions would be appreciated!


	8. What Friends Are For

A/N: Yay!  It's the last chapter!  Now I won't have to worry about death threats anymore!  ;)  Unless, of course, you want a sequel.  But to do that I need some plot ideas so, *looks around expectantly* ideas anyone?  A very special thanks to all my reviewers, especially the ones who reviewed every chapter, you all helped out a lot!

* * *

Going After The Detective 

Part 8

The Epilogue

            The pans rattled against themselves as I finished washing them.  Ever since Mr. Holmes had returned home this morning he had seemed distant and far, more so than usual.  Dreamily I picked up the dust rag and wandered out into the sitting room, up the stairs, and into Mr. Holmes' laboratory.  He was working on some chemical experiment or other, something I wouldn't understand and, currently, didn't want to.

            He glanced up as I walked in and then, to the surprise of us both, knocked a burning liquid onto his hand.  With a hiss at his stupidity he shook his hand of it and ran over to the sink.  I had managed to drop my rag and flew over to help him.  At first he resisted but after my persistence he gave in and allowed me to wrap his hand.

            "I seem to be getting hurt one way or another these days," he laughed quietly.

            "Scrapes with death, but you've come out fine…so far.  It was a close call last time."

            He nodded.  "If it weren't for Watson and you coming in when you did, I would have been shot in the heart, not the shoulder as it was."  I had finished bandaging his hand (he was lucky, he had missed most of the liquid) and was about to pull them away when he stopped me and brought them to his lips.  They brushed lightly across my knuckles and then my hands became my own once more.  I looked at him in shock and he smiled faintly.  "I owe a great debt to you, Martha Hudson.  Thank you."

            I backed to the door, my own slight smile appearing.

            "You're welcome," I said as I picked up my dust rag.  "After all, that's what friends are for."  With that I closed the door.

* * *

A/N: Well, that wasn't _too_ bad was it?  If you want a sequel you're going to have to leave some plot suggestions!  Until we meet again, dear friends, always remember me to be very sincerely yours, Scarlett Red Rose.


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